Every April 18th, before most of San Francisco has hit snooze for the first time, a small crowd gathers at Lotta's Fountain on Market Street to mark the anniversary of the 1906 earthquake and fire — the disaster that leveled the city and, in a very real sense, built the one we live in today.

This year marks the 120th anniversary, and the early-morning ceremony (4:30 to 5:30 a.m., for the truly devoted) carries a bittersweet edge: the long-time organizer of the event is retiring, and nobody's quite sure what the commemoration will look like going forward — or if it will continue at all.

That should bother you, even if you've never dragged yourself out of bed at 4 a.m. for anything that wasn't a flight delay.

San Francisco loves to talk about resilience. City officials invoke it constantly — usually when justifying another bond measure or explaining why basic services cost three times what they do anywhere else. But actual traditions of resilience? The kind that don't require a budget line item or a nonprofit's blessing? Those are rarer than you'd think. The Lotta's Fountain gathering is one of the last truly organic civic rituals this city has. No corporate sponsors. No politicians cutting ribbons. Just people showing up because they give a damn about where they live and what came before them.

As one local put it, "I used to go with my dad when I was a kid, but haven't attended in years. This year I'm making the effort." That's the spirit — but it shouldn't take a farewell tour to get us there.

Here's the thing about San Francisco: we're great at building new institutions and terrible at maintaining old ones. We throw millions at programs that evaporate in two budget cycles but can't figure out how to keep a dawn ceremony going that costs essentially nothing.

If you're up early tomorrow morning, consider heading to Market and Kearny. Stand in the dark with your neighbors. Remember that this city has been knocked flat before and rebuilt itself — not because of government, but because of the people who refused to leave.

That's a tradition worth keeping alive.